To Hell with Good Intentions
by xo going nowhere
Summary: The sequel to Beyond Good and Evil. Lucas and Haley's seemingly unbreakable bond remains in tact, but it is a new school year. With it comes old enemies with wicked agendas.


Someone emailed me inquiring if I would ever write here again. Honestly, I didn't think so. I have been having a very tumultuous few years, but that email reminded me of how much I love it here. Now I'm going to begin the long awaited sequel to _Beyond Good and Evil_. Long-awaited meaning it took me for-fucking-ever to get it started, not that anybody still cares lol.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from One Tree Hill, the general evil aura of Cruel Intentions or... well, anything, really. C'mon now.

* * *

**To Hell With Good Intentions**

_ Vengence is Mine _

She had developed a taste for cheap vodka.

Brooke Davis had had a lot of time on her hands. It did not take long after being jilted to realize that she could not survive in North Carolina, in a place like Oakwood Prep. The real Brooke Davis was too soft, too weak, had too many feelings. She was like a turtle walking around without a shell, shaky and vulnerable. She felt the weight of all the pitying stares, the knowing smirks that followed her when she walked through the halls. She felt, even more pointedly, the way that Lucas Scott would not even look at her anymore.

Even worse, she still felt the way that he had pretended to love her. She woke up every morning, half expecting a sweet text message or Lucas himself at her side, smiling down at her in all of his golden perfection. It would only take a few moments for her to remember that she had learned better, to remember that all of his sweetness was artificial and every moment with him was a lie. The fallacy of their relationship seemed to cling to her skin, reminding her every second of the heart that was broken and the things that she had thrown away for him. Her friends walked on egg shells around her, but she could not bring herself to care. She _felt_ like an egg shell, helpless and irreparably cracked.

The worst of all, the part that made her want to die where she stood, was seeing Haley James. The blonde was beautiful and invincible and pure evil. It was hidden well, concealed by proper manners and a stunning smile, but how could no one have noticed all this time that her eyes looked like honeyed ice? There was nothing there, no light and no warmth. The way that Haley James would look at her as she passed in the hallways, triumph and disgust all rolled into one fleeting glance, made her both homicidal and suicidal. She wished that she could just disappear on the spot, to be gone as easily as they had dismissed her.

She had been undeniably relieved when the semester had closed, finally being able to go home and remember who she was. She had planned on reconnecting with her roots, to find the real Brooke who had gotten lost in the Oakwood shuffle. She wanted to find the girl who could resist Lucas Scott, the one who was not the laughing stock of the school. It had not taken long for her to realize that that person was dead and gone, pieces of her left in stains on sheets or lingering in shattered vases. She would have to be someone else, someone new, because there was nothing left of the real Brooke.

The new Brooke had realized that, when ingested to the appropriate degree, alcohol could wrap even more tightly around her skin than memories. It could make her strong and fierce, less susceptible to pain and humiliation. It chased the demons away, banishing Haley James's sneer and Lucas Scott's disinterest. It made her brave and tough. Any old alcohol could do that to her, but she realized soon enough that she preferred cheap vodka. She liked the way it smelled. It reminded her of a cleaning fluid, of something that made other people flinch away, but she could take it and it could wash everything else away. She liked the way it burned, the way it reminded her of why she was doing this.

All those hours had brought her to a new realization. As the wronged party, she deserved to take all that she could get. Someone else could play the victim. She would be the executioner. They had her number in the days of old, but she was someone else now. She was someone who could take them. And when she was done with them, that gruesome twosome, they would be almost unrecognizable. They would swallow their own medicine and feel the way it burned, feel themselves disintegrate, the way they had done to so many others. Vengence was hers; she would repay.

Dropping her suitcases onto the bed in her dorm, Brooke could feel herself begin to buzz. It was the start of a new semester. If she had her way-- and she _would_ have her way, so help her God-- it would be unlike anything Oakwood Prep had ever seen before.


End file.
